with pain, his eyes dark and hunted. The match
went out. He struck another. The man was
pitifully bruised and broken. A leg of his trousers
had been torn away, and the limb lay exposed,
strangely twisted. His track, made in crawling
through the sand, stood out clearly, trailing away
beyond the circling glow of light. A moment of
flickering, and the second match went out.

"Which way were you headed, friend?" Stephen
asked, pityingly. His heart went out to the
stricken stranger. He wanted to ask another
question, too, but he hesitated. But finally he
asked it. "Who are you, old man?"

For a moment the fellow did not reply. The
silence was oppressive. Stephen regretted his
question. Then suddenly the man answered him,
weakly, bitterly, as one utterly remorseful.

"I'm Jim," he blurted out. "Horse-thief,
cattle-rustler."

Stephen bit his lip. More than ever he regretted
that he had asked. Well, something had to be
done, and done quickly. Could he but feel sure
of his direction, he might place this unfortunate
upon Pat and walk with him to the railroad town,
where proper medical and surgical attendance
could be obtained. But this he was unable to
do, since he fully realized he was astray.

"Brother," he suddenly explained, "I was headed,
myself, toward the railroad. A little before
dark I lost my way. Do you happen to know--

"Sit down," interrupted the other, faintly.
"I've been -- been lost -- a week."

[[264]]

p263 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p264w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p265

v?